There is a girl sitting at a table
Far away from everyone
Hiding behind a pile of books
No matter what way she moves or screams
Nobody really looks
As she watches her surroundings
She easily and quickly slits her wrists
Poor girl in a miserable life
With miserable people
Not knowing what to do
On a day to day basis
As she continues to watch
The motion around
She cuts til the bleed comes
To an easy flow
She sits at the edge of the table
At this point not knowing
What to do
The little girl gets scared
Of what she might see
Cause the little girls reflection
In the mirror is me
I wrote this poem to my best friend when she came to school and told me that she was cutting herself and she and no-one would listen to what she was trying to say...
